


snowflakes in your hair

by lostnfound14



Series: through the seasons [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, but yeah i love peter and mj and they deserve the world goodnight, oh shit that was in poor taste wasn't it, petermj being soft ass kids, sorry christians, yes i know it's the day after christmas please do not crucify me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21982573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostnfound14/pseuds/lostnfound14
Summary: peter and mj go to rockefeller center and are chaotic, as per usual.may or may not be connected to my fall-themed fic, i honestly don't know.enjoy :)
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: through the seasons [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852393
Comments: 10
Kudos: 67





	snowflakes in your hair

**Author's Note:**

> okay so it's really been a minute since i posted a fic, huh? sorry about that, i've just been totally lacking in inspiration and even finishing this story was a struggle. i knew i had to write something christmassy for these two, though. here's the final product! i hope you enjoy! leave kudos and comment if you wish to do so!

“Having trouble with those skates?” 

“Shut up, Parker.”

Peter laughs as he watches the laces of MJ’s skates slip out of the metal placeholders again and again until she throws her hands up in defeat and sighs irritatedly. Then she glares at him, and he notes a small hint of expectance in her eyes, so he furrows a brow and tilts his head to the side.

“You have to ask nicely, MJ.”

She groans, but her face morphs into one of saccharine sweetness as she replies, “Peter, babe, can you tie my laces for me?” She bats her eyelashes for good measure, and while he knows she’s being sarcastic (her tone is absolutely drowning in it) he stares for a moment because she’s never called him “babe” before.

Peter snaps out of his daze after another second and kneels in front of her. “You got it,” he adds a similar dose of snark to his tone as he tacks on,  _ “babe.” _

MJ grins as he grips her laces between his rough hands. As he starts to weave them through the metal placeholders again, though, she grimaces. “Jeez, Pete, not so tight.”

He raises an eyebrow and glances up at her. “Do you want a twisted ankle?”

“No, but I won’t be able to skate if you cut off the circulation to my feet either,” MJ points out. She reaches out and musses up his hair as he gets back to work on her skates (tying them  _ looser  _ this time) to take a bit of the edge off of her tone.

He makes quick work of the skates and when he finishes he makes jazz hands, stands up on his skates, and says, “ta-da” all in one second.

She looks up at him from the bench she’s been seated on for the past few minutes and from beneath a thin sheet of hair, she says, “My hero,” with such dryness that Peter can’t stop himself from barking out a laugh.

He offers a hand, which MJ takes, and as she starts to stand his other hand snakes around her waist as a reflex. When she reaches her full height, their faces are mere inches apart and if Peter looks hard enough he can see a faint blush on her cheeks.

“Not gonna fall, Parker,” MJ assures, and she darts in quickly for a sneaky peck of the lips which leaves Peter’s mouth tingling for a moment as she extricates herself from his grip and maneuvers around him. She holds onto the hand that he offered her, though, and starts to pull him along. “Let’s get skating.”

He catches up to her surprisingly quick pace, which he didn’t expect on skates. He pushes open the door to the outside before she can, though, and as he leads her through the doorway the cold air starts to nip gently at his skin.

Rockefeller Center. A place he had known was only a few miles away from his home in Queens but only existed in movies for him, until now. Flags line the outside of the rink and conversations carry through the air to his hypersensitive ears. Flurries swirl through the air in circles down onto the ice and catch on Peter’s scarf.

MJ starts pulling him to the rink. Peter stumbles but catches himself quickly because he doesn’t want to end up in a tangle of limbs with her on the ground.

When they reach the entrance to the ice, Peter gestures for her to enter with a hand, feeling like a doorman at one of the high-rises that surround the rink. MJ picks up on this and adopts a pretty terrible British accent as she steps out onto the ice and acknowledges him with a “Why thank you, good sir.”

Peter rolls his eyes with an affectionate smile and follows her into the rink. MJ instantly reaches for the wall and grips it tightly, and he chuckles at her. She shoots him a glare of knives and other sharp implements, but it doesn’t deter him. Instead, he offers his hand again for her to take, which she regards for a moment, then grabs onto and shifts her weight to her feet. MJ slides clumsily into him, but he catches her and holds her against him so that she doesn’t slip, and though she’s taller than him, her knees are cautiously bent so that their eyes are level.

“Don’t even think about letting go,” MJ breathes, and he can see and feel the puffs of air that escape with her words against his face, the warmth making his cheeks tint slightly.

“Of course not,” he promises earnestly. A corner of her mouth tugs upward. 

“Let’s ride, cowboy,” MJ says, patting him on the arm.

On his first step forward she’s already stumbling and shrieking in a most undignified way, gripping his arm like a vice. He almost falls with the sudden change in his momentum but thanks to his enhanced reflexes he rights her and himself in time. A few people shoot them dirty looks for the small scene they’ve created but Peter shoots them looks right back.

“Jeez, MJ. If you wanted to fall on your ass so bad you should have told me,” Peter jokes, and when she lifts her head from the crook of his neck and shoulder, she’s glaring daggers. 

“I hate you,” MJ says weakly.

This time, when Peter glides forward, MJ does it with him, though her grip on his arm doesn’t loosen at all. He swings his other foot out in front of him cautiously, and she doesn’t fall. As they start to near the curve of the rink, Peter turns to her. She’s forced her eyes shut as she moves with him, and he smiles fondly.

“We need to turn, Em,” he mumbles so only she can hear him. “Take my hand instead.” 

MJ forces her eyes open at his words and dutifully shifts her grip from his bicep to his hand. Deciding to mess with her a little bit, as he starts to turn, he swings her around himself in a circle and they spin, spin, spin. Again, she screams, and they get just as many stares, and Peter stares back just as much.

When he catches her, she punches him in the arm, and he almost fakes being hurt before realizing it’s not worth it. “What the  _ hell  _ is wrong with you?” MJ hisses when she’s securely within his embrace. “You said you wouldn’t let go of me!”

Peter holds her at arm’s length. “Did I let go of you?” 

Begrudgingly, she shakes her head no.

“And I still won’t,” he reminds her.    
After that, they get a few good laps in, and at some points, Peter just watches her glide on her own, remembering not to let go of her hand. She laughs nervously with every yard the blades of her skates cut into the ice. Peter admires her smiling face, her hair that’s littered with snowflakes, the crinkling at the sides of her eyes as she squints against the wind.

She’s sassy and beautiful and amazing and – oh, shit, she’s falling. 

She lands on her ass, as promised. Quickly, Peter kneels down beside her, though the sensation of the ice on his pants is unpleasant. 

“Shit, Michelle, are you okay?” He asks, but she’s laughing. Is it at him? Or is she just doing that maniacal person kind of laugh that one does after they do something funny? He hopes it’s the latter and waits for her to catch her breath. 

“I’m fine,” MJ heaves out with some chuckling. “You are a terrible skating buddy,” she adds, jabbing a finger into his chest playfully and fixing him with an intense glare. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” Peter says, running a hand through his hair in shame.

She grips the front of his flannel and pulls him towards her for a chaste kiss. Peter almost bangs his forehead into hers but catches himself, settling his lips against her own. When he pulls away, she smirks. “Don’t apologize. I’m a terrible skater too,” she reassures him, and then she takes both of his hands in hers and orders him, “Help me up.”

Peter laughs breathlessly and helps her to her feet. “You wanna get some hot chocolate?” He asks when she’s on sure footing, and she nods.

They skate to the exit of the rink hand in hand and walk on their blades to the attached cafe. After they order, they sit down and instantly, MJ groans in appreciation. “My ankles were starting to ache,” she explains when Peter arches an eyebrow at her. She stirs her hot chocolate with the skinny red plastic straw and brings it to her lips, tilting it back slightly to take a sip. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold and her eyes are closed in ecstasy (to be fair, it is some damn good hot chocolate). 

When she puts it down, MJ looks at Peter, then to his unsipped mug, and frowns. “Your drink is gonna get cold if you keep staring at me like that, loser.”

Peter feels his face heat up, and he looks down at his interlocked fingers. “Sorry, I just really like… looking at you,” he admits, and he lifts his gaze to meet hers again. 

The corners of MJ’s mouth turn upwards and she rests a palm on top of his. “You’re goddamn adorable, Parker. Never stop.” 

After some months dating MJ, Peter would think he was impervious to MJ’s disarming words, but now she has new subject material since they’re dating, which makes it harder to keep his cool. At this, he fails spectacularly. His cheeks go nuclear and his brain short circuits. He hears her chuckle. And yes, he’s looking at her, but his MJ-induced daze is pretty hard to pull himself out of.

Someone’s talking to him, but their voice is muffled, until the speaker cups his face gently and says his name: “Peter,” like they’re exasperated. MJ.

“Shit, sorry,” Peter says, blinking a few times.

“Note to self: Call him adorable and he’ll shut down for a few seconds.”

Peter rolls his eyes affectionately. “Ha, ha.”

MJ shrugs. “What? It works.”

Peter scoffs and chooses not to respond to that. It’s a losing battle with MJ. He may know more physics than her, but he can’t argue to save his life. Especially where she’s concerned. So he changes the topic. “You having a good time?”

He knows it’s not like MJ to show much interest in things, so he waits for her to say “meh” or “I guess” or some other noncommittal response, but what actually does escape her lips is foreign to his ears:

“Yeah.” 

Peter blinks. “Wait, really?” 

MJ looks down at the table between them and toys with her lip between her teeth. “Um, yes, Peter. I happen to enjoy myself from time to time.”

A ghost of a smile tugs at his lips. “That’s not what I meant, MJ. But why is this time different?”

“I like Christmas. It’s the only thing that makes this damn cold survivable.” Her teeth chatter gently as if to emphasize her point.

Peter chuckles. “Agreed.” Then he yawns. “Damn, I’m tired. Must be from all the dragging you around I had to do,” he says cheekily, anticipating the half-assed fist to his arm but letting it make contact anyway as he laughs harder.

“You  _ ass _ hole,” she berates while laughing a bit herself. “You almost killed me twice. Also, I gotta say, I’m disappointed, Peter. I was expecting a bit more energy due to your spider-endurance or whatever.”

Though they’re in a public setting where nobody is paying attention to them, Peter still whips his head around instinctively at “spider.” Old habits die hard, he supposes, and MJ mocks him for it.

“Nobody’s gonna hear that, dork. Loosen up.” 

He waves her off. “Yeah, yeah. But seriously, wanna get going? I have Home Alone on DVD.”

She raises an eyebrow. “A very enticing proposition, Mr. Parker. I think I might have to take you up on that.” 

Peter stands up and bows, speaking even as he hears MJ giggling under his words. “But of course, Miss Jones.” Then he offers his arm and she stands up, slotting her hand into the crook of his elbow and they leave the cafe like that, even in their skates.

They collect their shoes and leave promptly, heading to the train as the snow starts to pick up around them. “This better not slow down the trains,” MJ complains as they shuffle down the stairs into the station. “I’ve had to endure enough bullshit from the MTA to last me a lifetime.”

“Haven’t we all,” Peter adds thoughtfully, because the city really needs to invest more into the transportation department. Delays, track replacements, station renovations, all of that makes for a difficult experience.

They wait for a train and when it arrives, Peter covers his ears (he knows it makes him look like a five-year-old, but his ears are sensitive because of the bite) and MJ coos at him playfully. He blushes and rushes into the train, leaving MJ in the dust to chase after him. He hears her say “Get back here” as he slips into a seat (with an empty one next to it, which she quickly occupies).

The train starts and the momentum pitches MJ against him, but instead of rigidly adjusting her position to right herself, she settles into it, resting her head against his and leaning against him. 

Peter smiles. Moments like this still give him mild butterflies because himself from a few months ago would never have pictured such a success story. 

With her head still lightly resting on his, he twists around and sneakily presses his lips to her cheek for a fleeting moment, then turns back to look ahead. She doesn’t startle, but he hears her laugh sleepily and say, “Loser.”

Then all that he can hear is the barreling of the train down the tracks, all he can feel is MJ’s hair tickling his neck, and all he can think is,  _ It’s the most wonderful time of the year, _ or something equally as cheesy.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope everyone enjoyed this little fic! it was fun, i think. writing fluff for peter and mj is always a fun time and add christmas to the mix and you've got yourself a Fun Time (insert obligatory trademark sign). thank you all for reading and i hope you have a lovely day (or night wherever you live), a merry christmas, and a happy new year! until the next!


End file.
